


phantom daisies (easier to wilt)

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Depression, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, References to Depression, Suicide, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 21:35:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: he





	phantom daisies (easier to wilt)

he’s beautiful.

that’s the first thing that registers. he’s beautiful, with tan skin and green eyes and a broad body. he’s beautiful. he’s so pretty and handsome and  _ stunning _ , honestly, because sometimes his golden gaze and calloused hands are enough to stun. enough to kill, really. maybe they killed a while ago.

he’s soft, too, soft in the places where he should be rough, where he needs to be tough but he isn’t. it fills the air with something dizzying, something so sweet and he is sweet. cloying. but he isn’t saccharine.

that’s the difference between them. him and komaeda. 

it makes komaeda quiver, sometimes. just the thought is enough to make him sick and he doesn't have breakfast for a week and it’s fine. he stacks up on snack bars that his friends leave at his door, almost like they understand. almost like they get it.

they don’t. 

kuzuryuu confessed to pekoyama last week. koizumi and saionji are close. tsumiki and mioda kiss a lot, from what komaeda can see in the little time he spends away from his cabin. nidai and owari train and cuddle constantly. sonia, gundham, and kazuichi figured out an arrangement.

they don’t get it. they don’t.

still, komaeda eats the snack bars. it makes him feel a little sick.

but  _ he  _ makes him feel sick, too. he thinks about that a lot. it’s horrifying, it makes his blood curl and he gets so fucking angry about it because  _ he  _ has no right to make komaeda feel this way, feel so wrong yet so comfortable, as if the only reason komaeda gets out of bed is to maybe see that face.

(it’s not enough to get him out of bed in the end, but it’s enough for him to toy with the thought. that makes him feel almost more alive than when he actually leaves his room, and somehow more dead than when he does anything else other than think and think and wish.)

he got to hug  _ him _ twice. once when komaeda woke up from the simulation, numb and lost in self hatred, he felt arms wrap around him and they lulled him to sleep. it lulled them both asleep, of course, it wouldn’t be okay if it was just one person. 

another time, he went to the cabin that felt more like home than his own and knocked and he started walking away until  _ he  _ answered, and immediately  _ he  _ knew words meant nothing so  _ he _ just held him tightly and smiled softly, saying “i got you.”

it was a nice moment.

…

it takes komaeda a few minutes to realize someone’s knocking at his door. 

usually, he doesn’t answer. he never does. but when he hears someone call out “komaeda!” and knock in that distinct pattern that leaves phantom daisies in their wake, pressed against the wood-- komaeda has to answer. even if he doesn’t want to. 

(the visitor had been knocking for a while. he felt guilt, somewhere.)

he faces green eyes, and his brain counts the minutes. 

“komaeda.”

“hi.”

“...”

“...?”

“aren’t you going to say anything else?”

“what do you mean?”

“you haven’t left your cottage in weeks, komaeda. people have been knocking at your door every day, leaving you food and you only take the fucking snack bars, and all you can say is “hi”? there’s snack wrappers everywhere, you’re usually a neat person-”

“sorry for being disorderly-”

“that’s not what i  _ meant! _ ”

a minute.

“what did you mean?”

“what do you think? ko-”

ko.

“-talk to us. any of us, it doesn’t have to be me. we’ll help you. even if you’re relapsing into despair, we have your back. we support each other. you don’t have to be ashamed if you’re upset.”

( _ you all support each other _ , he thinks.  _ i was never involved. _ )

“i’m not ashamed.”

“then why are you hiding?”

“for once, i’m trying to avoid my problems, rather than running head into them.”

“neither is encouraged.”

“i don’t know what you want from me, but i can’t be better than this.”

“ko, i don’t want you to be… ugh. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean…”

“you did nothing wrong.”

“you’d say that even if i did do something wrong.”

“you’re always right.”

“yeah.”

“...”

“...”

“...but you actually didn’t do something wrong.”

“still, i’m sorry. ...is there anything you need? we’re here to help you, ko, we really are.”

“stop calling me ko.”

“why?”

“...”

“sorry, i’ll stop.”

how many minutes?

“can i come inside? keep you company?”

“no.”

“oh.”

“...”

“we’re all going to hang out next week. all of us. playing board games and what not. you should come.”

“i shouldn’t.”

“komaeda-”

“move your hand.”

“what?”

“it’s on my shoulder.”

“you’ve never been this distant, why are you-”

“just go away. i hate you, don’t you understand?”

“where did this come from? i know that’s bullshit, ko-”

“STOP CALLING ME KO.  _ STOP IT! _ ”

(ohgodithurtssobad)

“...”

“as if we’re friends. as if i could ever be more than an enemy to you.”

“that’s not-”

“leave.”

“i’ll be back tomorrow.”

“leave.”

it’s sick.

_ he _ doesn’t leave, not really.  _ he  _ just watches.

they both watch.

sick.

komaeda curls in his bed that night, sleeping for eighteen hours and then two hours the next day, and then zero the next day and the next day and the next he considers sleeping the whole day but then

there’s another knock.

“...”

“you don’t have to talk to me. you don’t. i just got you food, and i know you won’t eat it, but… i wanted to give it to you.”

“...why are you so tired?”

“huh?”

“...”

“i was worried.”

“about me?”

“yeah.”

“sorry.”

“it’s fine. you’ve been tired, too. is it cuz of me?”

teasing.

“yeah.”

“oh.”

it’s not teasing anymore.

“thanks for the food.”

“of course. bye, komaeda.”

“goodbye, hinata-kun.”

he doesn’t eat the food. he doesn’t sleep. he laughs till his throat is raw and he cries until he can’t anymore but he still keeps sobbing. he locks the door; blocks it with chairs and desks. he closes the window. he disconnects the phone.

he’s in love.

and it’s hell.

(sometimes, he wished he was still being stabbed by a spear with throbbing thighs and a muffled scream and poison fog killing him. sometimes, he still wishes for it not just for the pain, but the fact that being saved from death was so much easier than being saved from love, and that’s the truth.)

his body is in the ocean a week later.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a bunch of fics to work on, but i decided to write this instead. a vent fic.
> 
> god knows why. i like writing about unrequited love, i guess.
> 
> comments are appreciated. have a nice day.
> 
> (oh, and for those who feel pained by the ending, when i was writing this i never quite decided if komaeda died or not. i don't know which is more tragic. but yeah. take it however you wish.)


End file.
